Thousand years of Duuuuuuuuuuuude Den
by Startled Boris
Summary: Everyone's heard of Prussia's diary, but not many people have read the diary and thoughts of the King of Northern Europe. Go back in history with the cheeriest Nordic...dude. Will contain scenes of stupidity, sexual innuendo, swearing, beer, Vikings, with special guest appearances from Norway, Finland, Sweden, Iceland, Prussia, France, Austria, England and all the rest.
1. Women Problems

**Thousand years of Duuuuuuuuuuuude Den**

**Summary: Everyone's heard of Prussia's diary, but not many people have read the diary and thoughts of the King of Northern Europe. Go back in history with the cheeriest Nordic...dude. Will contain sexual situations, swearing, and the usual cast.**

**There may be some history, but don't expect it to be very accurate.**

**Reviews/PMs/comments welcome as usual. **

**Chapter 1 – Women problems**

Sometime in the 10th Century

I've had loads of girlfriends. They can't resist me and my hair and when they see the size of my axe, well they just fall into my bed.

Because of this, I've had loads of kids. Well, I didn't actually have them – I'm a manly man and I've got a horned helmet to prove it. What I mean is I didn't give birth to them- that would be messy. They were all dudes, all called Sven, Carl, Olaf or Gordon and they're all massive top dudes.

Well, one day this chieftain's daughter called Mathilda beat me up. I never hit maidens back, it's not cool, and she was bigger than me – around the waist.

"You got me pregnant with child!" she yelled at me right there in the middle of the tavern.

Of course she was pregnant with child, what else would she be pregnant with?

I asked her this as she chased me around the table swinging my own axe at my head – how did she know it was me?

She said cos I'd yelled 'Copenhagen' at the moment and then drank all her dad's mead and then sodded off.

Probably was me then.

This was my first visit to Oslo in erm... oh yeah, seven months.

Top stuff, dude... Another little dude who could be another big Viking dude. I'll call this one Hans for a change.

* * *

Two months later

I couldn't call it Hans, little dude was shoved into my arms with blond hair and blue eyes wasn't no dude. When I peeked inside cos I couldn't believe Mathilda after she'd whacked me around the head and I saw it didn't have dude parts. It was a dude chick.

Still, I'll teach her to wash my undercrackers, de-lice my hair and run my baths when she's bigger. I'm all for equal rights, ja?

Mathilda kicked my arse until I said 'yes' in a wedding ceremony. I ain't never been married before but said she could be Queen if she stopped hitting me. I suppose it could be a good deal – she can mend my clothes while I'm away pillaging and ravishing in England.

It's a bum deal being a married Viking. I have to be home for tea every day so invasions of England have to be short.

Arthur wet his pants laughing when I stopped pillaging my way through Northumberland and I said I had to get back on the longboat or the wife would be beat me up.

The kid's growing up and she is the manliest of all my sons. Norge suggested she should be a territory or region or something. I love her to bits, diary, but she's hard like her mom and tells me to go forth and multiply with a longboat when I tell her a woman's place is by the hearth.

As I keep getting teased by my men about being married, on the next trip to Northern England I kidnapped a dozen maidens and brought them back with me. Ha! That'll shut my men up.

English women? What possessed me? They do nothing but moan about the weather, laugh at my men – I personally think braids look manly – and drink tea. I think Arthur might have planned this somehow.

Even our Viking ravishing does not subdue them. Many of the men are close to exhaustion and say the women are tiring them out. I doubt these women have ever been 'maidens'.

No invasions for a while. My men are all either too tired, love-struck or hen-pecked. Big Sven who is six foot six inches tall, built like a mountain and has killed many a warrior, is now a shadow of his former self. His once-manly braids have daisies in them and he is most likely to be seen giving his woman a foot rub.

How did my might army, who had invaded and taken Jorvik, come to this?

It's always nice to see Norgy, although he smacks me around the head and calls me 'fool' for calling him that.

We go back a looooong way. I tried to explain this to Mathilda but she said 'gay' and practically threw our ale at us.

I showed him around the camp.

"You've let them go soft, Den," Norge said as one Olaf went past with his youngest half-Viking, half-English kid sat on his shoulders.

I could not deny this, especially when I saw Sven III or IV (I get them mixed up) sat outside his tent doing embroidery.

Worst thing was Norge had brought his little kid of a brother, Icy, along with him. He kept laughing and pulling faces. I slammed the kid's helmet down on his head – it's way too big for him – so he couldn't see.

"Your daughter..." Norge started to say when he saw the girl sparring with a heavy broadsword.

"I ain't got no... oh yeah..." I forgot chick was a chick. She was practising her sword-fighting skills with Olaf VI and even though she was a foot and a half shorter, she disarmed him and had her boot on his neck.

Norge then said, "I suggest you give her that great big island of yours."

"Yer mean Whiteland?"

Norge nodded. He doesn't say much but when he does, he's usually right.

"I was gonna send her to Sweden. She'll make mincemeat of him and then send her on to that big cold dude Rus somebody." I told him. I thought it was a cool plan.

Norge shook his head.

Anyway, we spent the rest of the night drinking a lot of ale and trying to get that helmet off that Icy kid's head. Goosefat worked in the end.

So I sent Mathilda, the chick kid and a load of my men and their English women and kids off to what they laughingly called 'Greenland'. Ha!

They were in for a shock.

A century later, Greenland - my darling dude chick daughter, turned up and kicked my arse for sending her there. Result!


	2. The Day Ber and Tino Ran Away

**Disclaimer: I do not own Den, nor do I own Ber, Tino or any of the other characters in this story.**

**Acknowledgements: Thanks to all those who favourited, reviewed and alerted: Otaku Overlord, rhired191, ShrapnelGirl, Zeroluver567, Fluffiet, IrishMaid, Tamarutaca**

**Warnings: lots of swearing, drunkeness.**

**Chapter 2 – The Day Ber and Tino Ran Away**

Sometime in the 1500s, a Tuesday

I hate Tuesdays, man. Everything bad happens on a Tuesday.

Okay, I haven't always been a nice easy-going dude. You can't be the King of Northern Europe and be nice and polite to everyone. Look at douchebag Arthur aka England. He isn't a nice, pleasant person, even though he reckons he's a gentleman. He's a complete goober – kicking the bollocks out of Francis and Tony with that big fuck-off Navy of his.

Anyway, Norge and me had this alliance and Sweden and little Finland (Ber and Tino) were under my control. Maybe I was too oppressive. I don't know anything about ruling over dudes. Conquering Nations, pillaging the countryside and running off with their women (but I ain't running off with no English 'maidens' any more) yes, but ruling? No. So Ber and Tino said I was oppressing them like I was that big guy Rus in the land of snow over to the east who looks like a big bad-tempered polar bear. All I tried to do was make them use my coinage, pay taxes to me and drink the same beer.

I thought everything was okay. Us Nordics should stick together right? We all have the Nordic cross on our flags – I started that off, yeah, don't thank me... And we all lived together in my castle. Even if little Icy dude refused to call Norge 'bro' or me 'Your Awesomest Dudest Majesty and Ruler of the Northern Lands'. (Actually nobody calls me that, but whatever.)

Anyway, got myself outta my bed one morning, shoved the groupies to one side, all four of them and a troll (never ever question why there's a troll in your bed in a morning, it just leads to weird answers, all I know I gotta cut down on my drinking) and found out from Captain Olaf or Sven or whichever it was that Ber and Tino had legged it.

I ran outside to get the horses and summon the men and then ran back inside and pulled my trousers on. It was cold out there, man. Who runs away in the middle of winter?

* * *

Anyway, after a beer breakfast we took off to get them back. I wasn't that bothered about getting Ber back, he's a complete downer. Although he did build a nice new staircase in my castle, before that we had to use pulleys and some sort of pole to slide back down on. Not a Pole – not that gay, cross-dressing little weirdo – I'll explain about him later. It was Tino I really wanted back. I mean if I haven't got Tino, then Santa won't visit, will he? I thought perhaps I could let Ber go and piss big Rus dude off again and then get Santa back.

They must have been dead cold and I bet Tino really wasn't that happy stuck with Ber. Ber barely puts two words together and when he does it's usually "Shut up" and "Yer an idiot" and Tino is quite a cheery, chatty little dude.

Well, we searched all day and all night for them and then I gave up. I had four lovely ex-maidens waiting for me back at my pad, but hopefully not that troll. I mean she (I think it was a she-troll) really needed to do some serious waxing.

I just hoped they were warm enough and... nah... I couldn't care less. I hope they freeze. Actually, no, not Tino because otherwise Santa won't come this year and I'll not get my beer. And I suppose Ber is kind of handy in a battle with that broadsword of his.

* * *

Anyway, I got back to my pad, tethered the horses or whatever shit it is you do with them and got myself inside as it started snowing. My men were having a feast. I sometimes wish we had knives and forks and stuff; Norge once brought in napkins and all my Viking brothers thought it was the funniest thing ever. But it's not manly to eat meat with anything other than your bare hands. It gets a bit messy though, especially when we get to the pudding and its jelly or custard.

My groupies have gone home. I needed someone to warm my bed. Norge told me to sod off. He loves me really. There aren't any women around. Apart from Old Olga who was captured way out east years ago and who'd want her? She must be sixty if she's a day and grandmother to half of my men.

Old Olga punched me when I grabbed her boobs. You'd think she would be flattered. She also hit me in my manly department when I suggested she was a 'comely wench'.

All my big dudes were suddenly busy. I'm not that way inclined. I know I sometimes put my hands on my hips and I do like the colour pink (who doesn't?) but I like women. But when it's snowing outside and your bed is cold...

* * *

I'm not sharing with Big Steve again. The guy's a pig, even by Viking standards. His farts are weapons on their own. And he took all the blankets. I, the King of Northern Europe, ended up sleeping near the fireplace with the dogs. I did tell him to shuffle up and he called me "Dearie"! And he refused to take his bloody Viking helmet off. I might send him to Greenland and let her sort him out.

* * *

As it happened, big guy Rus didn't sort out Ber and Tino. I found out later from some Polish messenger dude that Ber and Tino went to Poland's house.

I asked the messenger if Poland's house was still painted pink and did the guy still wear a dress. But the messenger didn't answer and just read from his scroll. I mean, what kind of messenger doesn't have information like this? Rubbish.

Anyway, Poland is in some commonwealth alliance thingy with his dude boyfriend, Lithuania. Yep, you read that right. His dude boyfriend. They're both gay. And I don't mean happy. Well, actually they are happy. Although Lithuania who has long brown hair in a ponytail always looks a bit worried to me. But then, I'd be worried if I married a dude. But then I'd be gay. Which I'm not. I know I like Norge and keep asking him to marry me and keep my bed warm, but that's different, he's cute and manly and our love is not in any way unmanly.

I said all this to the messenger who looked a bit worried and Norge told me to shut up and that I was a fool. My men, especially Big Steve, all laughed. I need a new army.

Anyway, the messenger said that Ber told Pol that he was going to take the little Baltic dudes away with him.

I bet Pol kicked his arse. Pol and Lithuania are proper arse-kickers. But apparently, he didn't. Ber just said he wanted Estonia, little weird dude Latvia and Lithuania and that was it! Man! The guy's just so hilarious. Pol apparently said that 'he wasn't down with that' and Ber said nothing and was going to go and then Pol just said that he wasn't going to let Lithuania go. So Ber took the two little Baltics just like that!

Why didn't I think of that? I really like Esty, he's sweet and I love him a bit – in a manly way of course. The little Latvia dude guy could be trained up with Icy or something or we could have got him to clean the chimneys. I said all this out loud... man, I've got to stop doing that. Norge told me to shut the hell up.

I hoped that messenger wouldn't go around Europe telling everyone I was in love with Esty or that I have some sort of manly crush on Norge. So, to stop this, I got him drunk and then married him to one of Norge's pet trolls.

* * *

Well, I was hoping that was the end of it. I tried to get them back and I kind of hoped that they might come back for the beer and women... no actually, scrub that, neither are really that bothered about the women. But it wasn't the end of it. My boss, King Fred turned up and told me to rouse a bloody great army and we're going to battle against Ber and his dude.

I told him I wasn't happy about this. Ber's like a bro, you know. But this is the bad thing about being a Nation. It's not all beer, women, song, living for centuries until you're wise and mature and all that ... (Even if I live to be 1000 years old I'll never work out how Santa gets his arse down my chimney or how he gets those presents to everyone in one night.) Sometimes, as Nations we have to fight, bro against bro, lover against lover, husband against wife, moron against wise-arse, and then it's not pretty. Sometimes it gets quite ugly. Especially where us Vikings are concerned.

King Fred told me that he was going to visit Russia and wanted me to go with him. He was going to sign some pact which would hold big guy Rus off. I thought that was a good idea.

I haven't seen big Rus for bloody decades, but the last time he gave me the creeps. He kept drinking something that looked like water but turned out to be some kind of fiery stuff that burned my throat out. I couldn't talk or yell for hours. Norge thought it was hilarious. Plus he's big. And I mean BIG. I thought I was big... well, okay next to Big Steve, Big Olaf and Big Sven I'm not that big. I keep in shape yer know? Girls don't like fat guys. But he makes them look like little dudes.

* * *

It's bloody colder here in Moscow than my pad. It's colder than an Eskimo's arse. Not that I know what an Eskimo's arse looks or feels like. I told the messenger to scratch that out when we went into this Tsar dude's palace.

Rus dude was there as well. He's called Ivan, like his boss. I said my name was Matthias, not Fred like my boss. But he just stared at me with those purple eyes. He's weird. What weirdo has purple eyes?

He had this scarf on as well, which I can understand because it's bloody cold and I mean cold... my beer froze, man! But he didn't even take it off when we were inside and there was this big fire and they served us this beetroot soup rubbish and some potatoes and some meat which Big Ivan (the Nation, not the Tsar dude) told me was reindeer. I nearly cried. Poor Tino would be really upset. But then I remembered we were supposed to be at war with Tino and he'd run away with Ber. So I manned up. A bit of a tear escaped though.

Anyway, our boss' were getting on okay. Rus' boss is a bit of a nutcase, I thought, but then again I think all boss' are nutcases. To cement our pact we were supposed to have a contest, supposedly a friendly one.

I suggested a drinking one, which Russia agreed to. But then he suggested a bout of arm wrestling.

Bloody hell, never again. I got thrown across the room. My arm's killing me now. Everyone was laughing. Norge told me to stop being a baby. I'm going to slap him later.

I don't remember much about the drinking game. We drank some of that stuff that looks like water. Apparently, I did it all wrong before and you should drink it down in one go so it doesn't burn. I did this three times. When I woke up, Russia dude was carrying me up some stairs and singing some shit about "kolling" or something.

Thanks to Norge, I didn't find out what this "becoming one" with him meant, because Norge told Russia that I had a "rash in a personal area". Russia dropped me somewhere very hard. I only know this cos I had a lump the size of an egg on my head the next day. And Norge dragged me by my feet to my bedroom. I bloody hate this country.

* * *

Anyway, the next day I was told by my boss King Fred, to be nice to big Russia dude because of this pact thingy. I don't really care about a pact. I really want to go home now. It's fucking cold, even my wee has frozen. I told him this and he told me to put my pants back on.

* * *

Well, I'm writing this halfway back home now. Look, it's not my fault that they're so sensitive over there in Rus-oh-my-fucking-God-it's-cold-sia...

Look, man, in my defense, I did not know she was his sister, or that she was a crazy bitch. Either would've made me back off. All I saw was pretty face, nice hair, short skirt and so I thought "I'm in there, man!" 'cause I'm Denmark and chicks love me.

And besides, I kinda got the message that she was off-limits when I got in close and she pressed a knife to my throat. I would've backed off then, even if big-boobs there hadn't come at me with a pitchfork and a shovel, and Rus-dude hadn't face-palmed me so hard that I thought my head was gonna come off.

Seriously, I would've. I'm not into knives. They get in the way and can wind up painfully lodged in awkward places. Just ask Norge.

...'Cause we were trying to train Icey (he's pretty hopeless at fighting and shit) and he threw a knife and it got stuck in Norgie's headboard so deep that even the awesome me couldn't pull it out, and now he goes to sleep every night with the knowledge that the knife could dislodge itself and become embedded in his head any time it fuckin' well feels like it.

Anyways, it doesn't matter cos Ivan IV or Ivan the Terrible –not sure which is which, or which is Big Russia dude or which is his boss – has already signed the pact with my boss so we're home and dry. Just gotta win this war with Ber now. I mean... can't we just go fishing and share a beer?

* * *

**History: Northern Seven Years War occurred in 1563 between an alliance of Denmark-Norway, Lubceck and Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth against the Kingdom of Sweden after the break-up of the Kalmar Union.**

**Around this time Russo-Danish relations were quite good, they'd formed a mutual assurance pact in 1495 between Ivan III and the Danish King. This was renewed in 1562 when Frederick II and Ivan IV signed a pact which basically not an alliance but not to arm or help each other's enemies.**


	3. No Ado About Anything

**Disclaimer: I do not own Den, nor do I own Ber, Tino, 'Rus-Dude', 'Ed' or 'Gil' or any of the other characters in this story.**

**Acknowledgements: Thanks to all those who favourited, reviewed and alerted: DerpAthon, Intrasule, Otaku Overlord, rhired191, ShrapnelGirl, Zeroluver567, Fluffiet, IrishMaid, Tamarutaca,** Kawaii Waffle-chan DESU, kikigirl4321, robotchild50, Ensiya.

**Warnings: swearing, drunkenness, Prussia.**

**Chapter 3 – No Ado about Anything**

1219

So we invaded little Baltic country Estonia. Esty dude put up a bit of a fight, but surrendered to the almighty power that is me, the King of Northern Europe. And my boss, King Valdemar. Crazy name, crazy guy.

Esty, or Eduard Von Bock or something, is quite cute in a simple kind of way. I think he's a bit daft and not right in the head. He said something about a compromise when I said he would submit to me.

So my boss said it would like be a marriage or union or something. I said there was no way I was gonna marry no dude. Unless it was Norge of course, Norge told me to shut the hell up. The messenger had to scribble all that down and then scratch it out.

Of course I've been married before – I mean there was Mathilda and others but never to a dude. I mean I ain't gay. Norge told me it was all politics and to shut up. King Valdemar told me to get on with it.

Anyway, I will of course totally dominate Estonia and he will be like everybody else and completely submit to my power, strength and awesome hair. Ed – that's Estonia's name – shook hands with me like some kind of posh merchant or something and then sold me and my men half a tonne of wool and fur and some shit that I'm sure we don't really need.

Well, my boss said we have to seal the pact, have the wedding and a proper wedding night. Valdemar said that if we don't, it won't be legal. Esty went a bit pale.

I said "Hell yeah! But only if I'm the groom and he's the bride!" There's no way I'm wearing a dress again. They're dead draughty and the skirt dragged about – it totally gets in the way of punching out dudes. Not that I'd know that of course. Stop writing that down!

* * *

So of course we got married. Ed wouldn't wear a dress either. He had on this jacket and trousers and he looked like a complete goon. I, of course, wore my full Viking gear. Ed made me sign a piece of paper with tons of writing on it.

Well, I ain't got time for that shit. I said that to him and the little dude just shrugged and said he wanted my 'autograph'! How sweet is that? Dude! The guy loves me, even if he is a bit simple.

Norge told me I was a fool for signing something without reading it first. My boss thumped me on my head chinking my helmet but I don't care.

* * *

The wedding feast was a riot – literally. Even Ber and Tino were there. They were a bit worried about Ed but I reassured them that I'd be gentle. My top lads Sven, Sven and Sven all brought in their homebrew "Bellybuster XXX" with them. I drank at least twelve flagons of the stuff and then fell under the table.

I don't remember much after that. Sven or probably Sven, but it might have been Gordon or even Ber, carried me up to my bedchamber and I had fantastic wild sex with someone. I really hope it was Ed.

The reason I'm not sure is I woke up wearing a skirt and with Norge's troll in my bathtub. Anyway, I managed to find my manly Viking gear and get myself down for my breakfast (us Vikings have to have brekkie – although we don't call it brekkie – to power us up for all that pillaging) and asked where my 'wife' was.

The 'wife' was apparently outside in the yard meeting some merchants who'd come by selling silk and rubbish. Bloody silly Esty bought a load of stuff. I told him he was an idiot but he just shrugged. He'd bought the whole lot off them.

I shall have to have words with him about his finances and whether we'd actually 'consummated' our marriage.

The wedding presents were the usual rubbish. A bloody great sword from Ber which I couldn't lift, Tino gave me several crates of mead, that weirdo Rus guy sent several crates of bottles that looked like water – my men tasted some of it, fell over and couldn't get up for three days, and embroidered towels from Poland and Lithuania. Who in the right mind gives towels to a Viking?

* * *

A few weeks later

I'm a bit annoyed really. Ed sold most of our wedding presents. I managed to save some of the towels – they were awesome and well fluffy – great for when I've had my monthly bath.

I asked him where my share of the money was from the sale and he waved a piece of paper at me. I think it was that piece of paper that I signed before the wedding.

Since our wedding night, he hasn't been in my bed at all... And I'm not even sure he was there then. I worry about who was there. He keeps making up excuses. He had backache, headache and just the other day had his 'period'. I had no idea dudes could get stuff like that. Maybe it's just non-Viking dudes who get them. I asked Norge this and he told me I was a fool. I then asked Norge if he would marry me instead and he told me he had to go and sort out some trouble in Oslo.

* * *

So married life was much like single life really. Except with less sex.

Esty always seemed to be out selling and buying stuff and then buying land with his money. I told him the best investment for money was beer but he ignored me. I think he's a bit simple. I mean why buy land and build fortresses on it? Land's always going to be there. I told him this but he just smiled.

Anyway, it's a bummer that I only got the northern bit of Ed, the southern bit are part of this Teutonic Order. I asked Norge if this was why I wasn't getting any sex and he told me I was a fool.

Anyway, the Teutonic Order are a bunch of religious nutjobs. They are part of some religious order or something under instruction from the Pope and the Holy Roman Emperor and all that jazz.

Their nutjob leader and his men came to visit to ask my boss for an alliance along with Ber because they wanted to convert Russia to their mad-ass religion.

Now, the only religion I have is beer and women and I told Valdemar this and he told me to shut up and that this was important. So I did shut up. Nobody listens to Nations anyway. We just have to go out and fight. I told him that messing with that big crazy guy Rus was a bad idea... but oh no... don't listen to me.

Anyway, we had to tell our wenches to go home, hang some religious tapestries around and generally get rid of the beer before these Teutonic Knights or whatever they're called came to visit.

Their nutjob leader calls himself something stupid like Gilbert the Most Awesomest Warrior that Ever Was. He's a proper weirdo and has silver hair and red eyes. He wears a crucifix and is dressed like a knight as well. I told him he looked like a ponce and he said he was going to kick my arse! Hahaha, he's about six inches shorter than me and is a weedy little dude – not much bigger than Ed.

The negotiations were over in about an hour, my boss said we'd marshal an army alongside their knights, Estonia would also send some dudes, as would Ber. This Gilbert dude said that alongside his most awesome army, that Rus dude wouldn't stand a chance

I wasn't so sure about this. We were supposed to bring the whole of England under our control and look what happened there... and Arthur is a lot less nutty than Rus dude. But nobody listened to me.

Then the boss told me to entertain our guest, so I asked Gilbert if he wanted to go to church. (I don't go in churches – they give me the willies – all those dead saints and dudes.) He asked me if I was gay. Before I managed to tell him that I was quite happy actually, he asked me if there were any women and beer.

We spent that night trawling around Tallinn, going around some hostelries, kicking heads in, having our heads kicked in, Gil (that's what I call him now – we're best buds) smashed several tankards over my head (he said it was a sign of comraderie – I'd prefer a manly hug, but yer know...) and dragged some wenches back to the castle. Well, actually _they_ carried _us_.

I thought it'd be a change to spend the night with someone other than one of my Viking dudes, not that I'm that way inclined of course and seeing as my wife is never anywhere to be seen at bed-time... But we must have passed out.

I woke up with my arms wrapped around Gil nuzzling his hair – it is kind of soft and shiny. He told me to "get the fuck off him".

I wish people wouldn't shout like that – my boss' messenger was around and is quick with his ink and scroll and wrote everything down.

* * *

April 1242

What a downright bummer. I'd told them it wouldn't work. Nutjob knights and a bunch of Estonians charged across a frozen ice lake – yep, a _frozen_ lake at these Russian dudes and got chased all the way back.

All us lot (the King's men) got hammered then by Russian archers. I was lucky I didn't get a dozen arrows in my helmet.

My best bud, Gil almost drowned in the lake. The thin ice cracked under their armour and he fell in. He wasn't happy. In fact when I saw him, even several tankards of mead and Sven and Olaf's Viking jokes wouldn't cheer him up.

The worst thing was that big Rus dude, Ivan (what kind of crazy ass name is that?) turned up later at our castle with a bunch of his nutter Russians – man, why are they so big? He pinned me and Gil to a wall with one hand (alright one hand each) and he had this weird purple haze around him and told us never to set foot in this place called the 'Motherland' ever again. If we did he would shove something somewhere not nice. He told me where that place was and the object he would use and I didn't feel very well. Gilbert threw up blood all over the place.

I tried to calm him down with a tankard of mead but he swallowed it in one gulp and said it was "for children". His men – all built like him (like those big white bears we see in the north of Norge's place) all drank a tankard of my best mead, threw the tankards in the fire and then they all stomped out. When the ground had stopped shaking and me and Gil had made sure they'd galloped off on their horses, we hugged each other. I tried very hard not to cry with relief.

So, that was my first encounter with Gil and we've been lifelong buds on and off since. Even through wars and even when he invaded my country. We're just that close. Even if he is a douche and all that.

* * *

Back to my marriage to Estonia. It was over in 1343, and the whole of Estonia was sold off to the Teutonic Order. I warned Gilbert that if Eduard in over a century wouldn't submit to me, then he sure as hell wouldn't submit to him.

For some reason, Eduard left my castle as a rich man, he was dressed like a king in furs and all that shit. I have no idea where he got the money. He told me that the piece of paper I'd signed had made it that most of the taxes my King made the people pay went back to him! How the bloody hell?! Cheeky little sod. And I'm sure we never got to bed.

**Author's Note: In 1219 under King Valdemar the Danish fleet landed and conquered northern Estonia bringing it under Danish rule until the uprising in 1343.**

**The Duchy of Estonia as it was, was the King of Denmark's personal possession.**

**After the uprising in 1343, the Teutonic Order occupied the territories.**

**1242 – Battle of the Ice or Battle of Lake Peipus – a combined alliance between Denmark, Teutonic Knights (mainly the Estonian/Livonian branch) and some Swedes attacked Russia to try and convert Russia to Catholicism once and for all. They failed – Alexander Nevski's forces had them retreating across a frozen lake after drawing them across and releasing their overwhelmingly larger force of archers. This resulted in a Novgorod victory and the Teutonic Order relinquishing all future claims on Russian territory.**


End file.
